-From Elysium With Love-

Chapter 1: A Letter to Hades

"

I had always been the plain Jane. Never the one who would separate oneself from the others, always being shadowed by those who contemplated to be better, far advanced than me. They never called me by my real name; I think they've forgotten. They called me Jane, and they remembered me as Jane Doe. I was contented, by the fact that they did not choose a much more ridiculous nickname. But the more I think of it, the more I realized that I couldn't go on like this. Addressing me as Jane Doe wasn't that dire. Treating me like I'm an invisible stranger who did not deserve a place to stand on Earth was totally absurd. They irked me. I chagrined myself.

My full name is Jasmine Clover Hyacinth, and I will be 18 this year. When I was young, I was everything that I am not now. When I was about 4 or 5 years old, porcelain dolls with long golden tresses and oceanic blue eyes were my favorite toys. Changing their lavish sequin-laced dresses and gowns. Having tea and shortbreads at 5 p.m., with readymade tables and plastic, inedible butter cookies and jam tarts. And make-up kits. Those days, I didn't know that concealers and bronzers exist. I just knew the five most basic things – compact powder, eye shadow, blusher, eyeliner and lipstick. Back in late 80's, make-up malformed a simple and natural lady into a Dracula bride with blood-red lip-gloss and fiery lion-mane-like hair. Polka dots with striking colors became a fashion statement for both men and women. An episode of Dynasty came up to mind. They looked like traffic light

I have a small family. Just my parents and my elder sister. Apparently, being the youngest had me being unjustly stereotyped as the golden child of the family. They loved me. I loved them too. That statement would never change. But I secretly hope that they would stop making me look like I'm still their 5 year-old baby girl who needs to be chaperoned everywhere, guided every single moment, when I wanted to learn to stand on my own feet.

To think of it, my bedroom at home is still colored of that archetypal pink with dreary drapes and cute little soft toys with loads of multi-shaped pillows. While I hated pink, my wardrobe was painted light pink with violet square-patterns. The insides, however, was filled with nothing but black, gray and brown hued attires. Picture frames of Huey, Dewey and Louie were still hanging on my walls, reminding me of when I loved to watch Chip and Dale on the telly. My printed bedspread, exclusively bought from America had pictures of Simba, Nala, Zazu and those Hakuna Matata duo on it. It had been nearly one decade since The Lion King became a large Disney hit among viewers. Now it was all about CGI. Shrek. Finding Nemo. The Incredibles. Time had gone so fast. But I still find myself humming to 'Under the Sea', or 'Beauty and the Beast' sometimes. Animation-movie makers lack the vibrant musical fête in this day and age. Chicken Little was just another passionless pretentious mascot. I thought the creators suffered from acute necrophilia. Whatever happened to The Lady and the Tramp, or A Land before Time?

Which leads to the next point. When I grew up to the person I am now today, I began to realize that I would never be like Princess Ariel or Belle. I would never be close to becoming like as brave as Pocahontas, or as exquisite as Esmeralda. Those big blue eyes and golden hair, with milky-way skin of Barbies and Kens (or Blaine, as the couple broke up) now belonged only to the West, and they never did suit me in the first place. And I began my metamorphosis of bright, happy lass to the insecure, insomniac, inferior, introverted, rebellious-without-a-cause Goth. Black short matte hair, black eyes, and copper skin. I am the Ugly Duckling. The Swan wasn't my forte.

It wasn't an accident, though. I would walk past a mirror and my stride would be put to a halt. I saw a reflection of a malnourished dwarf whom I thought was a stranger – dark circles beneath her blackened eyes and dilated iris. Her thin lips flashed sad, reluctant smiles, her nose too flat. Her shoulders too wide, her hips too broad. Her face was plump, a little more and people wouldn't have doubted that she was spastically suffering of Down's syndrome. The background was of a warm, fuzzy summer's day, with joyous birds chirping and people dancing in the green-dewed gardens to the tunes of the Muses. What a contrasting imagery of a wretched soul being left to wither like a dying rose, when others bloom in Spring. The girl was I.

Eros shot his arrows of love into their hearts and hatred into mine, Fortuna and Nemesis conspired to piss on me. For when I was still a cheerful, happy girl who thought that candies, lollipops, cakes and ale were Heavenly, everything around me was bleak, of purple rain and black umbrellas. I used to despise the colors amethyst, violet, or anything purplish. Now they become scrumptiously 'royal' to me.

I was a square, trying to fit into a circle of friends who evolved too fast for my short gaits to catch up. There were friends, who call themselves mates, laughed and cried together, only to 'Checkmate' me in the end. I knew that people think I was rather strange for their tastes. I'd never considered of giving this a sheer thought, but the same things had been rewinding and replayed too many times, ever since I started college. I would be the quiet girl at one corner of the room, not getting a chance to sound my opinion. The powerful shall rise and the cowards would shrivel at the falling sickness. I could be the shallowest dullard, not paying attention to the manipulative agendas they had prepared. All because I was scared that what happened to me in high school would happen again.

Being a leader had been tough. It was hard to please everyone. At the end of the day I would be suffocated by two or more parties who wanted more than what I've given. I would be blamed for things I did or did not do. At that moment I wished I was invisible and no one would ever bother me again. So that I wouldn't have to fake a smile and hide a sparkling tear. My pride was lost. So when I stepped the grounds of college, I wanted to stay behind the sidelines and watch others work.

But of course, college was different. Everyone virtually grew up differently. Hormones raging differently, racing temperamentally. Barbies and Blaines exist in the PVC sense of word. And the worthless rag dolls sort of got to tail along. If any of the rag dolls were chosen to do anything, it was a blessing that Barbie actually consented him or her to do an important chore. I was one of the rag dolls. And I was passionate about making it happen. But where clans are involved, I got kicked out even before I started. They didn't trust me enough. Maybe in their eyes I was just a worthless immature kid who needed to grow up before I could hold huge responsibilities.

It hit me. I looked at them and it dawned on me that I still want to be a leader because I have the ability to lead. They may not believe it but I have what it takes to survive. Wits, talents, responsibility. What I lack, however, was the will to go on. I had a couple of friends, but they couldn't see it, or maybe they saw it but they didn't have faith in me. I didn't want to say anything to them either, because eventually they'd laugh at me and they'd tell me to back off. And the fire died away, all dreams go up in smoke. All that was left was ashes.

I still need them. My family and friends. But what those people said was true. "You have to learn to let go of things most precious to you. If they come back to you, then it's surely yours to treasure forever".

So I decided that I am the one who should leave. It won't make a difference, whether I'm here or not. They'd still go on with their lives normally, as if I have never existed. Thanatos shall take me to Charon, and then Hades shall meet me. Until then…

I may be quiet; I may be dull

Broken-hearted I am, and people start to mull

Lost in oblivion, but not in confusion

Life in this new place is not an illusion

You may despise me; you may keep a grudge

But this new place has no space for hatred and such

I may look worthless; I may sound selfish

This rat race go ruthless, dark secrets unleash

I may look frail when you think that you're strong

But when a traveler's lost all directions look wrong

You may act cold towards me; pretend that I'm invisible

Being bold I shall be, without me you'll tremble.

It's true what people say, the simple reminder

Never ever judge a book just by looking at its cover

But if you really don't want me to stay here

There'll be one moment when I'll leave, never fear

Because when we reach the crossroads, all vacant space

It's time for me to spread my wings and fly

To a new world waiting outside this place

This persona-non-gratae will bid everyone so long, farewell and goodbye.

From a heart searing with pain

Out to the people whose ignorance remains.

J.C. Hyacinth. "

The Lord Hades read the letter twice, thrice before he finally sighed, and crumpled the bloodied piece of parchment in his strong hands. "Jasmine, Jasmine," he thought. "If only you understand that your time hasn't come, and it wasn't Thanatos you met before you lie down to sleep," he mumbled. "It was Hypnos," he continued.

River Styx was the milieu to his throne, where he dwelled in the Underworld with his beloved Persephone. From afar he could make out the silhouette of the slightly hunched winged-boatman, Charon, paddling towards him. In the boat was a man who had died more than 60years ago, with an acutely befuddled expression planted on his face. As the man stepped on the shore, Charon was still waiting like a god waggling his tail, wanting something. "And why are you still here?" Hades asked, with a sharp tone in his aristocratic voice. "Considering the fact that I brought him here without any payment…it's quite disconcerting, milord," Charon replied, with much ease. The newly arrived man pondered. If it had been any other men or minor deities, they would have trembled just by looking at Hades. But Charon had been his reluctant friend since the Titans were defeated. And a greedy one too, for that matter. Even if Hades was being harsh or moody, Charon did not have any reason to chicken out. He was the only deity who had the guts to be Hades' right hand acquaintance.

"I will pay you later, 'tis the season, Charon. Dismissed!" Hades demanded coldly, as if something else was really bothering his mind. The boatman shrugged and turned away, to assemble more new souls who wanted to use his service of transporting them to Hades.

"Why did you summon me for, milord?" the man asked, in a deep baritone voice and somewhat distant Scottish accent. He studied Hades' profile – tall, lanky, his hair was of dark Vandyke brown, and long beard, but he never could make out the color of his eyes – when he was acting suspiciously cold, they turned blue as ice, when he was angry they turned flaming red as fire, when he was bored, they would turn as murky as the river's tint. His long fingers were clutching a piece of paper, and blood was tricking down from his fist. Hades handed the man Jasmine's letter, and ordered, "Read this."

The man's forehead furrowed, his expressions changed each time he got to a new paragraph. "She has a beautiful name," was all he could say when he handed the letter back to Hades. "Apart from her last name being Apollo's lover's name, yes, I think so too," Hades said. The man was still baffled, and he inquired, "What do I have to do with this? Where is she now, has Charon taken her to you?"

"She has not died. In fact, she is sleeping now. Thanatos did not want to take her because I refused her wish of death. Not yet, at least."

"If that is so, then how do I come into place? She is not related to me, and I do not know her."

"I have a feeling that you would be a great companion for her. I picked you because I believe that you will change her attitudes towards life, death, and every single misconception she thought of the Gods. You should have seen the faces of Eros, Fortune and Nemesis when Hermes showed them this letter."

"There are thousands of other men in Tartarus. Why pick me of all people? And I don't think-" Hades cut him off with a defiant stare, telling him to shut up.

"You are a man with good heart. Unfortunately that good heart could not compensate to the crimes you did with your limbs and tongue. Just single hay weighed differentiates whether you belong in the Elysian Fields or Tartarus. Consider this as a promotion. You do this right, and I will place you in Elysium."

The man's face brightened. "Really? You would do that?" Then he paused. "Milord, how long will I have to accompany her? And it what ways shall I treat her?"

"Until the day Charon brought her to me."

"And when exactly is that?"

"It depends on how you do your job."

"You don't really know when, do you?"

"Maybe."

There was a long pause. Hades then, in his attempts to make this conversation less awkward, said, "You will not exactly be as human as you were when you were alive. You were more like my Secret Agent of Guardian Angels. You shall be gifted with some special abilities, of which I could not disclose."

The man rubbed his face, which was covered in soot. He reeked of incense and raw blood.

"Have you done this before, big boss?"

Hades' eyes rolled at the words, 'Big boss'. Nonetheless, Hades replied nonchalantly, "Maybe. You should try to clean yourself up before you go, I suggest you should take a bath and get the proper attire to wear instead of this filthy toga."

The man grinned mindlessly. He didn't have the time to say 'Sure," before a helmeted God with winged feet whisked him swiftly out from the Underworld. For a while, he thought that Hermes was going to take him to Olympus, but when he landed hard on a white marble floor in the middle of a bright-lighted hallway filled with white-dressed people with stethoscopes around their necks, he knew for instance that he was in a hospital.

Although the fluorescent lamps hurt his eyes for it had been 60 years in the fire-lit inferno called Tartarus, he could see a girl in one of the glass-paned rooms, resting on the bed, her eyes closed, her breathing relaxed, as if sedated. Tubes were all over her, inside and out, and he remembered that he was once, in this position once, before Thanatos invited him to the underworld. Only this time, there was another man sitting by her side, singing lullabies into her ears, his features almost similar to that of Thanatos, only less frightening. Hypnos was tending to her, and the Deity of Slumber saw the man, before nodding. "She's yours now. Take care of her well," Hypnos said, before vanishing into thin air.

The man looked around and he realized that neither the doctors nor the nurses saw him or Hypnos. He was invisible. It might be one of the powers than Hades gave to him. He looked at her bandaged wrist and realized that she had tried to commit suicide by slashing her left wrist. "Poor girl…you shouldn't have done that. You don't want to end up in Tartarus like me," he said. "What do I do now?" he asked himself. It didn't take long before he found out.

A/N: I've been having quite lotsa ideas lately, and this is one of them - after watching too much of Descendant of Darkness; I guess this is how it turns out. Please tell me what you think. I may update this one faster than my other stories; depending on the reviews. By the way, Thanatos is the God of Death; Hypnos is the Minor God of Sleep; Hades is well...the Lord of the Underworld; Persephone is his wife, Fortuna is the Lady of the Luck, Nemesis is the Goddess of Revenge and Retribution, Eros is the Greek equivalent of Cupid; and somewhat Aphrodite's counterpart in the lovey-dovey business. Hermes, is the equivalent of Mercury; the Messenger of the Gods. Phew.